Vampire 101
by MyVintageLove
Summary: "I've been thinking. You can't obvious see your reflection in the mirror so you can't use it to shave. So how do you do it? You simply don't care about cutting yourself?" "Are we having a Vampire 101 class?"


"How do vampires shave?"

He startles, the toothbrush in his mouth scratching his palate and making him wince. "What the hell, Annie!" Without an ounce of delicacy, he throws the object in the sink and glares at it as if it was the devil incarnated, before doing the same with Annie over his shoulder. She sits on the bathtub, legs crossed and a happy smile on her lips, acting all innocent.

With a little shrug she keeps going on, as if it was the most natural of things, as if she hadn't just rent-a-ghost in the bathroom at seven in the morning. "Because I've been thinking. You can't obvious see your reflexion in the mirror so you can't use it to shave. So how do you do it? You simply don't care about cutting yourself? And I guess it might be the same thing to cut your hair, how do you know how to... Wait. How do vampire ladies even put make up on? Do they..."

"Annie!" His voice is harsh enough to make her stop, and he softens a bit when he sees her distressed face in the mirror. "Rambling."

She loses her smile for a second, and even her curls look sad in the way they fall on her shoulders. He rolls his eyes. "Sorry", she whispers. With a last glance at her, and knowing she won't move no matter what, he takes his toothbrush again. The next minutes are spent in silence, if it's for the sound he makes while getting ready. When he's done, he turns around with a sigh, leaning against the sink.

"Electric razor." She arches an eyebrow, which makes him smirk in amusement. Gosh, she really has the attention span of a goldfish sometimes. "I mean, obviously, I don't get a clean shave that often. So electric razor it is. And I haven't cut my hair in ages."

He tries not to get offended at her snort.

"What about the girls?"

"Are we having a Vampire 101 class?"

She nods vigorously. Taking a deep breath he doesn't need, he sits next to her on the bathtub, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I don't know, actually. Not something I have put much thought in."

He thinks of Lauren and her black eyeliner but mostly he thinks of Daisy and her clean face. She's never really been one for make-up, as far as he knows, even if she dolls up once in a while. He wonders if she does that herself or if Ivan takes care of her. Knowing those two and their weird co-dependent relationship, Mitchell wouldn't be surprised if it was the case.

He's startled out of his thoughts by Annie's hand in his hair, pulling at one of his dark curls. "I could cut it for you, you know."

It's his time to snort, as he taps her hand to push it away. "Yeah, as if!"

"Oh I see. You're _that_ kind of guy."

"_What_ kind of guy?"

"The kind so proud of his hair he won't let anybody touch it, as if it was some kind of treasure."

"I'm not...!" Arching her eyebrows, she raises her hands to his face, her fingers dangerously close to his temples. He sighs. "Okay, fine, whatever."

He tries not to flinch at her touch but Annie's fingers are cold and delicate in his hair, barely more than a breeze on a summer day. She has an adorable giggle when he closes his eyes and a low moan escapes his lips. He missed that, simple physical contacts like these ones, without further thoughts behind it. (He means without sex and blood. He knows he would go further if she let him.) And, maybe, she needs it too. Death is lonely, after all. They needs hugs, and kisses on the cheek, and a hand on the small of the back. They desperately need affection with no-one there to give it to them.

George is different, George has Nina. Mitchell and Annie... Well, at least Mitchell and Annie have each other now.

He calls in sick half an hour later.

They move from the bathroom to Annie's room at some point, and he sits on the floor with his back to her armchair as she settles on it. She massages and rubs and caresses, she braids and plays and pulls. It's heavenly. The smile never leaves his lips as he answers the hundred of questions she has.

No, they never sleep in coffins, even if he's heard the Old Ones do so sometimes. Yes, the Old Ones are some kind of royalty to them. No, the sun doesn't kill him even if it makes his eyes burn a bit when it's too bright. Yes, hence the sunglasses, aren't you a clever one. Two humans, two brothers, made a pact with the Devil and that's how the first vampires were created. It is said they don't have a reflection because the Devil took their soul. He's heard of a vampire and a werewolf trying to kill the Devil to have their humanity back. It didn't go well. Oh Chris no, Annie, he doesn't sparkle, not even during the summer.

He tells her of vampires and werewolves and demons, of ghosts and poltergeists and urban legends, of thinking of Seth as a moron because of his scandal in Highgate Cemetery. Hours pass by without any of them realising it and soon George gently knocks on the door telling dinner is ready. He blinks furiously at the two of them and at the mess that is Mitchell's hair, but says nothing and leaves as quickly as he arrived.

Mitchell jumps to his feet and gives his hand to Annie for her to stand up. She smiles and takes it. "Thank you. It was an... interesting day?"

"You're welcome. Any time."

She kisses his cheek, the ghost of her lips almost brushing the corner of his mouth. With a last little giggle she leaves the room and he hears her bouncing steps in the stairs. He should follow yet he remains still, his fingers finding his face, right where her lips were seconds before. He allows himself to smile like an idiot for a moment, before shaking his head and going downstairs too.

Interesting day indeed.


End file.
